


Dream of me

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Gen, John Winchester Dies, M/M, Sam at Stanford, Set pre-series, Soulmates, but can be read as if they've never been hunters, i think, soulmate identifying dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: Dean's earliest memory isn't carrying Sammy from a burning house but a dream of two men on a dock.





	Dream of me

**Author's Note:**

> Made for the [Supernatural Hits Challenge](https://supernaturalhits.tumblr.com) who gave me [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7j8wa9sWOE) to be inspired by. 
> 
> If you think I've forgotten important tags, let me know. Otherwise comments, kudos and constructive critism is welcome.

**~5~**

_There’s just enough wind to make tiny ripples on the lake though it's otherwise quiet. At the end of the dock a man's sitting in a chair with a fishing pole held loosely in his hands; the sun's shining above the layer of clouds making it warm enough he doesn't need a jacket but not too hot to be comfortable in his ripped jeans and layers of flannel. The man breathes deeply, sighs in contentment as he looks over the water. He doesn't react to the sound of fluttering wings._

With a gasp Dean falls from the bed, eyes wide as he frantically looks around the room. He can hear his brother’s labored breathing – dad had said it was just a cold but Sammy had screamed and cried as if he was dying until he’d finally fallen into exhausted sleep – and with no discernable threats it’s hard to keep his eyes open. Soon Dean’s asleep once more, never hearing the faint sound of wings in flight.

**~12~**

_nor to the person materializing next to him; the only thing visible is the dress pants, a tan trench coat and a shock of dark brown blackish hair on top of his head._  
_They don't move - one man in his chair the other standing next to him with his hands in his pockets - and if it wasn't for the wind rustling through the leaves and the quiet hum of the water it could've been nothing more than a still-life._

It’s been two weeks since Dad left for a hunt that should only be a few days and Dean’s stomach has long since gone quiet. He’d used the last money – a few bills he’d wanted to save to buy Sammy a birthday present with – a few days ago and they’d eaten the last food the night before, so when the large doors closed behind his brother’s back Dean had gone back to the motel hoping to see the Impala in the parking lot.

She hadn’t been there, so he’d made his way up and down unfamiliar streets hoping to not only find some money but to avoid detection, too. Hours passed without him realizing until he bumped into somebody and when raising his head to apologize saw the time. He made it back to the school just as Sammy came out.

His brother’s little hand in his as they make their way back to the motel, Sammy telling him about the day he’d had while Dean makes sure to make enough noise to indicate he was listening without letting his worry shine through. It hard, though, when he can hear the growl of Sammy’s tummy over his words.

And then, to step into the motel room to see the array of food on top of his bed; the light in his brother’s eyes as the kid notices his favorite candy bar. There’s a voice in the back of Dean’s head that tells him to not touch any of it, not let Sammy eat any of it, but it’s easily ignored in the light of not only Sammy’s but also his own hunger, making itself known with a roar at the sight and smell before him.

**~18~**

_Dean has always been curious as to who the man in the trench coat might be. The fisherman’s hardly a mystery, he’s known since the first time he had this dream that it’s him as an adult and by now he’s old enough he can see the foundation of that person when he looks at himself in the mirror. But the other man is a mystery. Dean has only ever seen his back, has committed the sight to memory for long enough that he’s confident he could identify the man by his back side alone._  
_There’s a shift in the air, a minute change in the light as the man turns his head. The only thought through Dean’s head is_ ‘blue’ _._

Dean’s not sure if he’s grateful that the motel they’re staying at is the kind where angry yelling is a common enough occurrence nobody’s going to bother calling the police or not. It itches under his skin to get out, get away from his Dad and Sammy screaming at each other; he’ll never admit it – not even to himself – but he’s afraid to, afraid the screaming match is going to get physical and if so that they won’t be able to stop before it’s too late.

Today it ends with Sammy turning on his heel slamming the door closed behind him as he angrily walks away from the motel, Dad throwing up his arms in fury before sitting back down getting a bottle from the duffel bag on the floor. Dean remains motionless where he’s sitting on his bed, torn between following his brother and not draw attention to himself. When the bottle’s empty and Dad’s passed out on his own bed Dean finally gets up but before he can get to the door it opens quietly and Sammy’s hugging him tightly, tears streaming down his face.

Dean’s not surprised when his brother leaves a few years later.

**~24~**

_“Dean,” the voice is whisky smooth and smoke rough liquid rolling over gravel, his bones vibrating with the hum of it as it heats his blood to the point where it almost feels as if he’s on fire. He startles, hadn’t expected the man to talk, and turns his head towards him, opening his mouth_

The sound of a horn ripping Dean from sleep though he doesn’t have time to complain not learning the man’s name before the truck slams into the driver’s side of the car and the world explodes in agony before going black.

_~ The sound of wings, a cool hand on his head, gravel voice telling him to wake up~_

Beeping surrounds him. He lifts his arm to turn off his phone convinced that’s what’s making the noise. The limb doesn’t move, and once he finally opens his eyes he’s met with the glaring whiteness of a hospital room; the stench of it makes him gag but it’s as if nothing works.  
Then, something touching his hand and a familiar face moving into his line of sight.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay,” his brother’s voice calming him down miraculously fast, soon to be replaced by other voices, but the pressure to his hand remains.

Later - after being told Dad had died from his injuries, the emergency surgery, finally being able to walk even if just three steps, being discharged – Dean’s meeting Sammy’s girlfriend Jessica and is told he’ll get the guest bedroom until he’s back on his feet.  
Dean wants to argue – wonders how they’ve managed to get a house with a fricking _bedroom_ considering they’re both in college – but there’s a boulder lodged in his chest and everything hurts so he saves it for later. 

**~26~**

There’s a persistent limp to his walk and an arm he can’t lift past his shoulder, but other than that he’d escaped the accident unscathed. He’d stayed with Sam and Jess for six months recovering, but their apartment was too small for three adults and Dean was used to his own space, so he’d called Bobby and moved back to Sioux Falls. There he’d rebuilt the Impala to her former glory and then gotten a job at a garage run by a friend of Bobby’s.

Rufus was a gruff, old man who spent the first half hour of their acquaintance insulting Bobby left and right before pointing Dean towards a car telling him to “fix it”. Four hours later Dean was aching everywhere and barely able to hold the wrench in his hand. He’d never noticed the person behind him before Rufus had barked at him to not be a goddamn idiot, go home and get back when he was well rested.

Dean had shown up the next day gotten a contract shoved into his hands and then told to come back next Monday, provided he wanted the job and wasn’t in any pain; if he was he could just call that he’d take the job and they’d sort out the rest later.  
He’d worked there ever since, soon realizing that Bobby and Rufus hid their care for the other behind insults and barbed comments. It had seemed a bit odd at first but once he’d sunk his teeth into one of Ellen’s burgers he’d decided not to worry about it. 

~

It’s a Friday like any other. Still early enough that whoever walks through the door comes for Ellen’s famous burgers rather than trying to dry out her basement; that also means the few people already here are occupying the booths along the walls rather than sitting at the bar.

Dean walks through the doors at five thirty, nods at Jo drying off glasses before sitting in his usual booth. It’s less than five minutes before she saunters over plate in one hand beer in the other, placing both in front of him. Dean sends her a grateful smile she lifts an imaginary hat and as he puts the first fry into his mouth she turns and walks back to her spot behind the bar.

He’s finished the fries and is a second from taking his first bite of the burger - the smell of it mouthwatering - when the door opens. Dean’s not sure _why_ he lets his eyes drift towards the rectangle of light where all he can see is the silhouette of a man; he’s about to turn his attention back to his food when the newcomer takes a step forward and the world comes to a sudden stop. Dean’s chest’s burning where his breath’s caught as he’s lost in the blue eyes he’s seen in his dreams for the last few years. 

The stranger’s talking with Jo who says something making him turn, his eyes locking onto Dean’s making him able to breathe again. The world starts moving again though the two of them inside their own bubble where the light is a little brighter, the sounds a little clearer; the rustle of his trench coat like wings as he sits down across from Dean, the sun breaking from the skies when he smiles.

”Hello, Dean,” whiskey over gravel vibrating in his bones and heating his blood all he needs to take the man’s hand between his and with a knowledge he wasn’t even aware he possessed he answers.

”Cas.”

End…

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://theydraggedmein.tumblr.com) if that's your thing


End file.
